The Bride of Black Douglas

Chapter 8

“We have been riding all day, with nary a lass in sight,” Hugh said. “It will be dark soon. Do you plan to continue your search in the dark, or do we make camp?”

“We make camp when we come upon a suitable place.”

“If we can see it.”

It was half an hour later when they came upon a brook, which issued from a narrow, wooded glen nestled among the hills. To one side of the brook lay a boggy marsh, impassable and dangerous. On the other side, the ground was comparatively sound. Nearby, where the ruins of an old castle lay scattered about, the ground was gently elevated above the marsh, which afforded them an esplanade of dry turf.

Part of the once-magnificent tower remained intact, with two remaining walls that formed an angle. They were of great thickness and would provide shelter to tether their horses.

“This looks like a good place to stop for the night,” Robert said. “We’ll make camp here.”

He dismounted and tied his horse, but Hugh stared off wistfully in the distance. “And here I was thinking of a soft bed at an inn…with an even softer English lass to warm it.”

“Always the dreamer. We don’t need to spend the coin or draw attention to our presence.”

Hugh shrugged and dismounted. “Aye. It’s much more fun to camp in the wilds, so we can be run over by stray lassies.”

“We? I didn’t see any bumps on your head.”

Hugh raised his brows in mock surprise. “You got a bump on the head?”

Robert rubbed the swelling knot at the back of his head. “Aye, a small one.”

“To go with the bruise on yer arse.”

“You are awfully cheerful when it is someone else’s arse.”

“Only when it’s yours, big brother. God’s love! I am truly amazed. Not many men who could knock you on your duffer. I am beginning to truly regret losing that lassie. Are you starting to regret letting her go?”

“Will you stop putting your oars in my boat? I regretted letting her go yesterday. Today, I have put her and the incident out of my mind.”

Robert dismounted, then led his horse to where Hugh was standing. He slapped the reins in Hugh’s hand. “Stop your chirping and see to the horses, while I see if I can find something with four legs to eat.” He walked a few feet, stopped and turned around. “Try to have all thoughts of that lass out of your head by the time I get back.”

Hugh laughed. “Aye, why don’t you try doing the same thing?”

The sun was dropping low in the sky when Robert returned with a rabbit. He handed it to Hugh. “You can cook it.”

Hugh tossed a few more sticks on the fire. “Why me? Why don’t you cook it?”

“I killed it.”

Hugh mumbled to himself and set about finding a green branch sturdy enough to hold the weight of the rabbit.

“I think I’ll take a swim while you see to our dinner,” Robert said as he rose to his feet. He stripped off his clothes and dropped them next to his saddle.

Hugh watched, grinning wildly. “’Tis a real pity yer lassie didn’t stay around long enough to see what you had to offer…one glimpse of that and she might have changed her mind.” He whistled. “If she only knew what she was missing. I will wager these Englishmen don’t have anything that will measure up to the likes of the Black Douglas himself. ’Tis a fine specimen of manhood ye are, Robbie my lad. Take care, or all the lassies hereabouts will come running and toss ye on yer duffer.”

“The bigger the bait the bigger the catch,” Robert said, then, naked as truth, he walked to the edge of the stream and left Hugh and the sound of his laughter behind.

When he stepped into the water, he was surprised to find it gooseflesh cold. He was accustomed to that at home, but did not expect to find it here. The water was waist deep and clear enough that he could see the smooth stones that covered the bottom, as well as a fish or two that darted past. One deep breath and he ducked his head beneath the water, then surfaced and swam with strong, swift strokes to warm his muscles and hold the numbing cold at bay.

Soon, not even vigorous swimming could hold back the penetrating chill of icy water. He tired quickly, slowing his stroke. When the numbness began to creep up his legs, he waded back to dry land. With cold, stiff steps, he headed back to camp and the clothes lying where he dropped them. The swim had been a good idea.

Cold water was exactly what he needed to get the lass out of his head.

As he made his way to camp, he was guided by the savory smell of roasting rabbit. He walked into the clearing and smiled. Hugh was hunkered down low on his haunches near the fire. The rabbit looked deliciously brown. “I hope that’s ready.”

“Looks ready to me,” Hugh said, and took a sip of whisky from the bottle he was holding. “How was your swim?”

“Cold as MacDougal’s feet the day they buried him.”

Hugh chuckled and offered him a drink, holding up the bottle of whisky. “Here. Try this. One sip will have you as warm as a wee mousie in a churn.”

“As soon as I get my clothes on.”

“And here I’m just getting accustomed to you that way.” He made a clucking noise. “Sure is a pity that flame-haired lassie couldn’t see you now, with yer arse as bare as a baby.”

“Can’t you talk about something else?”

“Nope. I keep thinking about that poor lassie. She will never know just how close to Paradise she came.”

Robert tossed a clod in Hugh’s direction, but he easily ducked.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. There is nothing like a missed opportunity with a lassie to make a man touchy!”

“I am not touchy.” Robert was about to pick up his clothes when the thundering sound of an approaching horse caused him to go for his sword instead. He was lightning quick, but even then, he did not have time to reach the place where his sword lay before the horse and rider crashed through the trees and bore down on them at breakneck speed.

“Satan’s spawn! The devil is going to run us down!” Hugh shouted.

The words had no more than left Hugh’s mouth when the horse must have seen them and attempted to avoid running them over. It squealed and made a sudden, sharp turn to the left, just as Hugh took a dive to the right.

Hugh made the right choice.

Robert was not so fortunate.

The sudden turn of the horse unseated the rider, who came hurling out of the saddle like a projectile and struck Robert full in the middle. The force of the impact drove the air from his lungs and sent him reeling backward. He hit the ground with a hard blow to his shoulder and grunted in pain before he rolled a few feet, still entangled with the unseated rider.

Instinct guided him now, and he rolled on top of his adversary and pinned him to the ground. Immediately, his head was under attack with several weak jabs and punches that landed on his face and head. Robert did not bother to fight back, preferring instead to hold him down just enough to protect his face from the series of blows. Whoever his assailant was, he was nothing more than a lad, for he was slight and his punches, although well placed, were ineffective.

God’s eyeballs! He was puny, even for an Englishman. He fought like a woman.

“Let go of me, you bloody fool! What are you trying to do? Kill me? Can’t you see I’m a woman?” His adversary bucked beneath him. “Get off, you blithering idiot! Get off of me this instant!” Each word was backed up with more thumps and whacks, which Robert tried to deflect as best he could, considering he had an injured shoulder that pained him whenever he moved.

As he was preoccupied with protecting his shoulder, it took a bit longer for the words to soak into his brain. However, when they did, he exclaimed loudly, “You’re a woman!”

“Of course I’m a woman, you idiot! Don’t you have women where you come from? Now, get off me!”

He had no more than realized he had a woman beneath him, who was doing her best to rearrange his face, when he was conscious of the rumbling sound of Hugh’s laughter. Leave it to his brother to laugh at a time like this.

Robert turned his head just for a moment and saw Hugh standing nearby. The next instant he felt a sharp, piercing pain to his other shoulder. “God’s teeth! The wench has bitten me!”

Hugh was laughing so hard by now that he was shaking, making it a bit difficult to hold up the burning branch in his hand, but he managed somehow. The dull, golden light was enough to illuminate what was happening.

Robert yelped with pain again.

Hugh only laughed harder, but he did manage to say between breaths, “Instead of lying there, bleating like a sheep, I think I’d let the lassie go.”

“I…am…trying…my…best,” Robert said between pants.

The woman beneath him bucked again, then boxed him so soundly it left his ears ringing. “Let me up, you countrified rustic! I’ll have you arrested for this!”

His body aching in a dozen places, Robert did manage to roll from her. A second later, he rose to his feet.

Hugh, with true courteous dispatch, went for the damsel on the ground and gave her a hand up.

She showed her appreciation by giving him a swift blow to the shin. “You took your own bloody time helping me up, you thick-witted clod!”

Robert noticed Hugh was looking down at the woman with a strange expression on his face. A second later, he saw why.

“Lord love us! You won’t believe this!” Hugh grabbed the woman by the wrist and spun her around to face him. “Look what we’ve caught,” he said. “It’s your lass!”

“I’m not your lass!” she shouted, and landed a bruiser just beneath Hugh’s eye. Two inches taller and she would have had him smack in the eye. As it was, Hugh yelped with pain.

Robert looked at the same moment she did. Their gazes locked. Hugh was right. It was the same lass—every redheaded inch of her. She must have recognized him, as well, for she stopped fighting the second their gazes met and stood staring at him with a disbelieving expression of frozen surprise on her face.

Apparently recovering from her shock, she gave Hugh an elbow to the ribs and shrieked, “Dear God in Heaven! Someone please help me!”

“We’re trying our best to,” Hugh said, “but you are making it difficult.”

She was not listening to anything he had to say, however, for she whacked him again. “Have you no shame? I’ve been set upon by perverted lunatics and one of them is wearing no clothes!”

She tore into Hugh with a new surge of vigor, kicking, biting, hitting and saying in a winded voice, “You depraved wretch!” She kicked him again. “He doesn’t have a bloody stitch on!”

“Well, it isn’t my fault!” Hugh said, doing his best to dodge her blows. “What are you hitting me for? I have clothes on. If you want to hit someone, hit him.” Hugh was about to shove her toward Robert, when he realized what she said. Without thinking further, he yanked her fast against him and shoved her face against his chest, then mumbled a hasty apology. “Sorry, lass, I didn’t realize…”

She plainly wanted nothing to do with Hugh or his apologies, for by the time he finished his sentence, she was struggling against him with all her might. Shouting and kicking, she tried to break loose from his hold. “Unhand me this instant! Let me go!”

“If you would only…”

She kicked him again and Hugh howled in pain.

Robert stood quietly watching with a mixture of incredulity and enjoyment on his face. It was hard to believe he had encountered her twice in so many days. It was also quite a sight to see such a lass get the best of his brother. He had never seen anything to compare with her. Where in the name of St. Andrew did she get that abominable temper? He had to admit it was a bit satisfying to watch her light into Hugh, deserving scoundrel that he was. Save him for a wretch, but he was damnably close to laughing.

“For the love of Scotland! Will you hurry up?” Hugh shouted, and then howled in pain. “Get your clothes on while I still have some hide left.”

Robert took his time. Judging from the sound of things, Hugh was not faring too well. Robert had never felt better. He started whistling an old war ditty, “Jock on the Side.”

“Robbie, by the Cross of St. Andrew, will you hurry up?”

Robert whistled louder. Eventually he finished dressing. He walked slowly back into the dim light of the campfire and quietly observed for a moment before he said in a calm, low voice, “Instead of howling my fool head off, I think I would simply let her go.”

“It…is not…as easy as…it…looks,” Hugh said, his breath coming in quick gasps between words. “Hanging on to her is like wrestling a wildcat. I can’t hold on and I’m afraid to let go.”

She bit his neck and Hugh let out one last yelp before he released her. He glared at Robert. “I was trying to give you time to get your arse covered,” he said, rubbing his neck.

Free from Hugh’s restraining grip, she turned angrily on Robert. “Listen, you bloody…”

“That will be enough,” Robert said in a hard, masterful tone.

She snapped her mouth shut and stood glaring at him in a way that made him think she was not accustomed to being corrected.

“I think we’ve heard enough from you, lass. You have tossed me on my backside twice now. I am beginning to wonder if it was by accident, not that it matters. You have run roughshod over me for the last time. I would practice a little self-restraint, if I were you.”

Her eyes widened and he saw a spark of anger flare in her eyes. He was right. She was definitely not familiar with the word reprimand, for she was clearly stunned into silence. He knew it would not last.

Just as he predicted, she came back at him with a barrage of insults. “Your insolence is boundless. How dare you insinuate I would throw myself at a country bumpkin like you! I don’t know about Scotland, but here in England, naked barbarians are not well received.”

Hugh looked from Robert to the lass, then back at the fire. He kicked a couple of coals into the flames and said, “This is starting to look like a marital spat, and I have never been one to go between bark and tree. If the two of you do not mind, I am going to eat my dinner, while I still have the strength to sit down. Does anyone want to join me? Or do I eat alone?”

“I’ll join you,” Robert said. “I’m so hungry I can hear my ribs clanking together.”

“It’s probably the rocks in your head you hear,” she said.

Hugh’s grin signaled his approval. “Would you like to join us? You’re welcome to a share of rabbit.”

“I…” She cast a quick glance in Robert’s direction, apparently to see if the invitation met with his approval.

Robert remained expressionless, but Hugh held up the stick with a sizzling rabbit bobbing up and down on the end. “Have you eaten, lass?”

Clearly preoccupied with the rabbit, she licked her lips and said, “Not since this morning.”

Hugh tried again. “You must be hungry, then. Would you care to share our meal?”

“Yes, I would like that.”

“Well, that settles it, then,” Hugh said cheerfully. Come here, lass.” He motioned to her. “Over here. By the fire.”

She looked at Robert warily and remained where she was.

“You are welcome to a bit of rabbit,” Robert said. “As long as you behave yourself, you are perfectly safe here with us, even if you are English. I have never been known to ravish a woman on an empty stomach.”

“Now, see what you’ve done. You’re scaring her with your gruffness,” Hugh said.

Robert saw she looked as if she was going to pitch camp right where she stood. Even after Hugh invited her again, it was apparent she was not going to budge. Someone ought to turn her over his knee, Robert thought, but he was too hungry and too tired to volunteer. Better to feed her and send her on her way. He held up his hand and motioned her forward with one word. “Come.”

She closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of the rabbit, but she did not move.

Robert knew she was hungry. He now added too stubborn to eat to his list of observations about her. Foolish woman! There she stood, all decked out in her finest blue riding habit and feathered hat, looking down her aristocratic English nose at them. It made him wonder why this lady of rank, if not manner, was out—again—alone.

Still standing where she was, she obviously fought a battle between self-will and hunger. Hunger won out, for she started walking toward them, her steps hesitant, as one walking in the dark, drawn forward by insatiable curiosity, yet wary of what they might find.

Robert removed a plaid from his bags and spread it near the fire, then turned to her, indicating she should sit there.

She stopped and stared down at the plaid.

“If you are going to remind me that the plaid was outlawed after Culloden, I am aware of that,” Robert said. “I am also in the habit of doing as I please, and that includes revolting against the English if I so choose.”

He heard her draw in her breath in disbelief. “You are speaking treason.”

“Fluently.”

“I did not ask you to justify why you rebel against the law,” she said, lifting her chin.

“Success is justification enough,” he said. “Now, if you will sit down, Your Highness, we will eat. The rabbit grows cold.”

If it was possible, she lifted her nose higher, sauntered over to the plaid and stopped looking down at it. “You should be more careful, you know. You are in England now. If someone sees you with this, you might not be so fortunate with it or your excuse.”

“I will keep that in mind. Now, will you sit down or do I have to get up and see that you do?”

She sat down quickly. “I like an obedient lass,” he said, and handed her a piece of meat. She took it hesitantly. “I am not obedient. I am hungry. There is a difference.”

Robert began eating his rabbit, letting her know the conversation had ended. They ate in silence; each of them set upon devouring his or her small portion. At one point, Robert stopped and took a sip of whisky. He offered it to Hugh, who also drank.

She watched in silence, then after a few minutes, she said, “Might I have a drink?”

“I’ll get you some water from the burn,” Hugh said.

“I’ll have what you’re having.”

Hugh grinned and eagerly offered her the bottle, in spite of Robert’s scowl.

She took the bottle and was about to put it to her lips when Robert cautioned her. “That is usquebaugh.”

She gazed down at the bottle, frowning. “Usquebaugh? What is that? Some sort of heathen potion? Or is it poison?”

“Scots whisky,” Hugh said. “A few sips of that and you’ll be ready to take on the devil.”

She looked at Robert. “Well, since that already seems to be the case, I might as well do this right.” She turned the bottle up and took a large swallow, followed quickly by a coughing fit.

“Might I suggest a smaller dose?” Robert said, looking at Hugh who was still grinning as if he had no good sense.

When she got her breath back, she spoke between gasps. “I didn’t realize it was so strong.”

“It’s a man’s drink,” Hugh said and Robert wanted to punch him.

Instead, he gave his brother a look that said, Don’t open your fool mouth again. He should have given Hugh that look sooner, for just as he suspected, Hugh’s comment urged her on. With a defiant look, she took another sip—thankfully, smaller than the first. She held the bottle toward him and Robert put it down, wedging it into the dirt between them.

By the time they finished eating, the whisky had curbed her anger and loosened her tongue. Robert was trying to decide which was worse, as he listened to her telling Hugh about the holy well where they had first seen her. Since she was so talkative, he decided it was a good time to find out about her. “Who are you? Why out this late, and still without an escort?”

She mutely stared at the fire.

“I asked you a question, lass.”

“Yes, the same question you asked before.”

“You didn’t answer it then, so I am asking again.”

“It was daylight when I left, so I didn’t need an escort. Normally, I don’t ride this late.”

“Why are you out this late now?”

She looked down at her hands folded in her lap. There was something about the way she did this that made Robert suspect hers was not going to be an easy story to tell—if they got it out of her, that is. “I asked you a question.”

“I…I took a wrong turn and got lost.”

“You don’t live around here?”

Her head jerked around. “Why would you think that?”

“Your wrong turn.”

She shrugged. “Oh, that. Well, I was upset when I left. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Why were you upset?”

“I…I’m afraid of the dark.”

Hugh said, “Being afraid of the dark is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“That isn’t the reason,” Robert said. “Can’t you tell she is lying?”

“I am not lying!”

“Let me see if I have this right. You did not need an escort because it was daylight when you left, yet you were upset because you are afraid of the dark, which caused you to make a wrong turn and get lost. Interesting, what you consider the truth here in England. Do you take me for a fool? What are you running from?”

“I am not in the habit of sharing private information with strangers.”

Hugh laughed heartily. “Troth! She only shares rabbits and whisky with naked ones.”

She glared at Hugh. “The whisky has sharpened your wit.”

“Aye, but it doesn’t seem to have the same effect upon you.”

“I can be witty when I’m around those capable of understanding it.”

Robert cut in. “You didn’t tell us your name.”

“You didn’t tell me yours.”

“Robert Douglas. This is my brother Hugh.”

She did not say anything.

“I believe it’s your turn.”

“I am pleased to meet you.”

“Give me your name, lass!”

“I don’t give my name to strangers, either.”

“It would take me two seconds to join you on that plaid, and another five minutes to toss your skirts and become better acquainted. Then we would not be strangers. Is that what you prefer?”

“Meleri,” she said quickly. “My name is Meleri.”

“And the rest of it?”

“Weatherby. Lady Meleri Weatherby.”

“Now we are getting somewhere,” Hugh said.

“Do you live nearby?” Robert asked.

“No.”

“And your destination?”

“To visit my former nanny.”

“Where does she live?”

“Not far from Gretna Green.”

“That’s in Scotland,” Hugh said.

“Yes, since its inception, I believe,” Robert said, not missing how great an effort it was for her not to smile. “Now, lass, I will have the rest of it, without any more witticism.”

“The…the rest of it?”

“Aye. You have not told us your entire story, lass. I am not a fool. A lady does not travel at night without an escort, nor does she leave for a visit without taking any baggage. What are you running from?”

She drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin on the top of her knees. She stared pensively into the fire. Robert was about to repeat his question, when she said softly, “Marriage.”

“What did you say?”

“Marriage!” she shouted, and then, speaking softer, “I am running away from marriage.”

“How far do you think you will get? Your father will obviously send someone after you.”

She frowned in a way that made Robert think she was not going to respond, but she surprised him. “My father does not know.”

“How can he not know his daughter is missing?”

“My father is unwell. My sister has taken him to London, where she can look after him.”

There was more to it than what she was telling, but Robert let it ride for now. “And the man you were to marry? Will he not send someone to look for you?”

“I am certain he will, but he will not have any idea where I have gone.”

“I think you should return home. You may stay the night here, with us, and in the morning we will take you back.”

It had been a long time since Robert had seen such terror on a woman’s face. Before he could inquire as to its cause, she shot to her feet, a wild expression filled with panic on her face. “No! I cannot go back. I will not marry him. I would rather…” She stopped there. Robert could not help admiring the way she quickly gained control of herself. She was a levelheaded lass, in spite of her temper. When she spoke again, she was calm, her voice soft. “What I do with my life is up to me. You have no interest in this matter, nor are you a relation. Consequently, you have no right to force me to return.”

Hugh agreed. “She’s right, Robbie. ’Tis none of our affair.”

Robert agreed, but he still had one question. “What made you leave today? Is the wedding a few days off?”

That brought a mocking laugh from her. “A date has never been set.”

“And what happened to change things?”

She stared at the fire again, then after some time, she sighed. “I suppose I might as well tell you the whole story.”

“Start at the very beginning.”

“I was born…”

Hugh burst out laughing.

“We can accept that assumption. When were you pledged to this man?”

“Shortly after my birth,” she said, then went on to tell her story, which took some time—long enough that Hugh had to build up the fire, twice.

Once, about halfway through her story, Robert noticed Hugh was exhibiting signs of being deep in thought—something quite unusual for him.

Hugh, after maintaining his silent contemplation a bit longer, suddenly asked, “Why is this man so determined to marry you when he knows you do not want him? Is your dowry a large one?”

She nodded. “Extremely large.” She continued with her story. When she reached the part about the letter her betrothed sent to her father, Robert stopped her. “And you still have the letter?”

“In my pocket,” she said, and withdrew the letter. She offered it to him. “You may read it, if you like.”

Robert glanced at Hugh.

With irritation in her voice, she said, “I assume you can read?”

“Only four-letter words,” he said. “I don’t need to read your private letter.” He handed the letter back to her. “It would appear that you have gotten yourself into a rather precarious position. No matter which way you go, you’re bound to bump into something unpleasant.”

Hugh laughed. “Aye, she bumped into you.”

Robert was about to say something, when Hugh interrupted. “I’d like a word with you in private.”

Robert wondered what his brother was up to, but he remained silent.

“Would you would excuse us for a moment?” Hugh asked.

“Of course.”

Robert accompanied Hugh to a place several yards away. “Why all the secrecy?”

“Keep your voice down. I have an idea and it involves the lass. I don’t want her to hear.”

“I have never gone along with one of your schemes, yet, that something didn’t go wrong.”

“This time will be the exception. It has occurred to me that marriage between you and the lass would serve you both well.”

“Are you daft? Marry her? You have seen the way she lives up to that red hair. She is opinionated, too outspoken and obstinate as a headache. And on top of that, she’s got the disposition of a sore-toothed bear.”

“For a man who has less than three weeks to save himself, you sure are paying a lot of attention to trivial details. I say she is perfect. Just what we are looking for. She is English and titled. She is also well dowered. And better yet, she is in no position to refuse your offer. Why are you being so fussy? We came here for a wife, didn’t we?”

“Then you marry her!”

“Great idea. I will marry her, and you explain it to the king.” He glanced back at the lass. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing…everything! She isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“She’s a woman and English. You do not have time to add anything else. You could do much worse, Robbie. She’s comely enough, and I’ll wager she would be grateful to you for helping her out of a terrible situation.”

“What makes you think she would rather be married to me than that ogre her father chose?”

“I know your reputation, brother. I have heard firsthand what the lassies at home say about you. If there is anything you know, it’s pleasing a lass…when it suits you, that is.”

Robert looked back at her, crossed his arms, frowned and said, “She does not suit me. I’ve never been fond of red hair.”

“Perhaps I could persuade her to shave her head,” Hugh said, allowing his exasperation to show. “I’m sorry I tried to help you. If you don’t find a willing lass to marry, and you end up married to some toothless old crone picked out by the king, don’t say I didn’t offer you a better way out.”

“I won’t. Now, was there anything else you wanted to talk about?”

“No. I prefer to remain silent from here on out and watch you hang yourself with all the slack you’ve cut.” Hugh started walking back toward the fire, paused and said, “Are you coming?”

“Aye.” Robert walked back slowly, contemplating what his brother said.

By the time Robert stopped by the fire, Hugh had her telling the rest of her story. He sat down and listened to her tale, until she mentioned again that she was going to Scotland, to the home of her former nanny. “You should have a care,” Robert warned her. “It is not safe for a lass to be traveling alone and sleeping out in the open. Tomorrow you should take a coach to Gretna Green. It would be safer.”

“I left in such haste, I did not take much money. I thought I would sell my horse tomorrow. That should provide me enough for the fare to Gretna.”

“Our offer still stands. You are welcome to stay the night here,” Hugh said.

“Well…I…”

“You haven’t any other place to go, have you?” he asked.

“No…that is, no place they would not recognize me.”

“Then it is settled.” He looked around the camp. “You have your choice of rooms, milady.”

Robert stared at Hugh, who was doing a stupendous job of making a fool of himself over this English lass. Five minutes ago, he was trying to pawn her off on him. Now it appeared he was going after her himself.

“Who is this man you detest to the point you are willing to leave your home and family?” Robert asked idly. “He must be abominable to take such risk with your life. Is he old?”

“He is about your age, nice-looking, and the son of one of the most powerful dukes in England, who is a relative of the king.”

“My, my, and you are running away from all that?” Hugh said.

“Yes. I will go to America or Australia if I have to. Anything to keep from marrying Waverly.”

Robert frowned, thinking it could not be. “Waverly?”

She nodded. “Philip Ashton, the Marquess of Waverly.”

At the sound of that name, Robert’s heart thumped wildly and then seemed to stop altogether. He closed his eyes, feeling as if the ground beneath his feet began to tremble and then give way. He could feel himself begin to sink slowly into a bog hole, its soft, muddy surface sucking and pulling him down, down, until he was engulfed in a shifting mass that turned his world dark and filled his lungs until he could not breathe. He felt suffocated. Waverly…. The name went through him like a white-hot brand, agonizing and searing. Surely it could not be. It was too much of a coincidence. Fate would not have been so foolish as to usher in the fiancée of the man he hated most in the world, right into his presence.

“Is something wrong?” Hugh asked.

Robert managed to focus on him through a blur. He realized both Hugh and the girl were looking at him strangely. A mask settled over him, a stone coldness that went deep within him and lodged in his heart. After all this time and so many years of grief, he may have found a way to lay his sister’s ghost to rest. How fitting that it would take the sacrifice of an English lass to set him free. Without another thought, he knew she would be his wife, bound in a state of subjection to his power, his influence, his very will. Gaining control, he forced his voice to a normal tone. “Wrong? No, of course not.”

“You’re pale as a bleached bone.”

“I’m fine.”

Hugh continued to look at him for a minute longer, then with a shrug gave his attention to Meleri.

Robert rose to his feet. “I’d better check on the horses.”

He left before Hugh had a chance to respond. He needed to get away, to be by himself. He needed some time to think, to clear his head of the residue left by such a shock. For over ten years, he had looked for a way to get even with the Marquess of Waverly. He remembered the day he learned the identity of the bastard who raped Sorcha, then turned her over to his three friends. Robert’s first instinct had been to ride to England immediately and slit the bastard’s throat, but his grandmother and Iain had cautioned him against it. “You want me to do nothing? You think I can simply pick up with my life where it was before and go on like all of this never happened?”

His grandmother wanted just that. “Aye, for the time being. In the end, he will get the justice he deserves. Evil never goes unpunished.”

“He is the son of an English duke who is related to the king. He will never be punished, and you want me to leave him thinking he has gotten away with what he did, never to know even who she was?”

“Aye, to do otherwise could prove to be the downfall of all the Douglases.”

In the end, Robert was persuaded. He realized a Scot would never receive any kind of justice against someone as powerful as the son of the Duke of Heatherton. He was convinced he would never have a chance to get even, or to see that Waverly paid for his sister’s death. Now the impossible had happened. It absorbed Robert completely, for already he was devising the perfect plan, knowing even before he worked it all out, that this English lass was not only vital to his plan, but the crucial element necessary for its success.

It was perfect and so very simple. He would not marry the chit for himself, but he would marry her in a minute, in order to keep Waverly from having her. He would steal her out from under Waverly’s nose and then he would make certain Waverly heard about it.

He stared into the fire, unable to believe how remarkable it all was. To have such a key resource he could use at the opportune moment, dropped in his lap, had to be a gift from God.

A changed man, he looked at Meleri. “You know, I have been thinking about your predicament. It has occurred to me that I may have the perfect way out for you.”

Her face brightened. “Oh, that would be so wonderful. I cannot thank you enough. What is your solution, pray tell?”

“I will marry you myself.”

Hugh, who had just taken another drink of whisky, choked, spewing the drink, some of it going into the fire, which sent flames shooting upward.

Robert paid Hugh little notice. Meleri did as well. Her attention was all on Robert. “Marry you?”

“Of course. Do you find the idea abhorrent?”

“No, of course not…that is…I mean…” She put her hand on her head. “Oh, I don’t know what I mean. Too much has happened in such a short time. I am so confused.” She paused a moment as if what he said finally hit her. “I cannot marry you. We just met. You’re a stranger.”

“Which would you prefer? A stranger or Waverly, because you will end up married to one of us. You are in a predicament, lass, and there is no easy way out. You have precious few choices, none of them good. What will you do when Waverly finds you? And he will find you. What then?”

Once his choking fit subsided, Hugh looked ready to jump into the conversation. Robert directed a look at him that carried a warning, both cautionary and convincing. Hugh must have interpreted the look correctly, for he remained silent, although glowering a bit.

“So, what is it to be?” Robert asked.

“I…I don’t know. Honestly. It’s quite difficult to rush into marriage with a total stranger, you know.”

“He isn’t a complete stranger. You’ve already met him twice,” Hugh said. “Besides, how can you call him a stranger, when you saw him without a stitch on? Naked as the truth, he was.”

“I think we can leave off with that discussion for now,” Robert said.

A hint of color still stained her cheeks as Meleri tried to explain herself. “Although I am in a fine predicament, as you correctly pointed out, I am finding it difficult to understand your reaction. Why would you want to involve yourself in my difficulties? And at so great a price. By marrying you, I have everything to gain. You, on the other hand, have nothing.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. We came to England to find Robbie a wife,” Hugh said. “A rich one.”

Robert dropped his head in disbelief. The only thing worse Hugh could have done was to add he was ordered to do so by the king.

“Now, don’t go thinking Robbie is the mercenary type, because he is not. It was an order, signed by the king himself.”

Robert groaned. Hugh was worse than meddlesome Matty. For him, talk came first and thought last.

Stunned surprise registered on her face. “The king ordered you? Why would he do that?”

“Robbie is a powerful earl. The king knew if he took an English wife, it would go a long way in helping the relationship between the Scots and the English.”

Robert was ready to throttle him. Was Hugh that dense? Didn’t he know when to close that overproductive mouth of his?

“Yes, I can see that it would. Still, that is no reason to rush into marriage with a stranger.”

Hugh was eager to reply. “Oh, yes, it is! The king only gave him three weeks to find a wife. After that, the king will find one for him. You see, now, that you would be doing Robbie as much of a favor as he would be doing you. You would be mutual benefactors, so to speak.”

“Are you finished emptying your brain of every scrap that’s in it?” Robert asked, his voice gruff and full of irritation. “If you don’t mind, will you allow me the honor of doing my own proposing?” Robert decided then, that if Hugh so much as opened his mouth, he would punch him into silence.

He spoke to her, but his intention was to quell Hugh’s bleating. “You must forgive my brother. His brain can only do one thing at a time. Think or speak. One or the other.”

She smiled shyly. With a demure turn of her head, she looked Robert over again, this time with a spark of interest. “I suppose I could do worse.”

“I don’t see how.” Hugh paused suddenly, apparently realizing what he said. “That is, I don’t see how you could find anyone better.”

“Oh. Yes, I see,” she said, frowning. “Well, I am certain that is true.”

“What more can you ask for?”

“Silence.” Robert wanted to muzzle Hugh. It was his offer of marriage, yet there was room for him to squeeze only one foot into this conversation. True to his nature, Hugh had taken the lead and jumped in with two.

Hugh ignored Robert’s comment and went on babbling like a brook. “So, tell me if you agree that marriage is the best choice, and the only one completely foolproof?”

“I would have to agree that marriage would be impervious to any intervention on Waverly’s part.”

Hugh, beaming, slapped his hands against his thighs. “Well now! It sure looks like everything has worked out fine, Robbie. We can go to Gretna tomorrow and see the two of you wed.”

“Don’t publish the banns just yet. There are a few details that must be worked out.” Robert wanted to slow things down. It had all gone so fast. Half an hour ago he was worried that his time would be up before he could find a bride, and now he had not only a willing prospect, but one that he could use to his advantage. It did not bother him in the least that she would be the means by which he would extract his revenge.

She shifted her position, which brought her directly into his line of view. He could not miss the restrained demeanor that brought out an almost haunting quality that hung about her like sadness. He hardened himself against that. She was a means to an end. He did not want to think of her as anything else.

Her skirts rustled as she came to her feet and stood looking down at him. “I have decided to accept your offer of marriage, my lord.”

“As the saying goes, blest is the wooing that’s not long a-doing,” Hugh said, then leaned toward Robert, gave him a nudge in the ribs and whispered, “Tell her something, thickwit, without any more ado.”

“You tell her. You’ve been doing all my bleating thus far.”

Meleri said, “We can be wed as soon as you like, although I think it is always best to have at least a short time of wooing.”

“Wooing should be done after the wedding,” Hugh said.

“And what makes you an expert on the subject?” Robert asked.

“A man who has avoided matrimony as many times as I have has to know a great deal about it.”

Robert turned to Meleri. “We won’t have time for a big ceremony. We can be married in Gretna Green.”

“Yes, that way I could still see my old nanny,” she said.

Robert nodded. “We will leave for Gretna Green in the morning. Considering the secrecy that must be involved, I will postpone any correspondence with your father until after we are married.”

The sad look washed over her face again. “That would be best,” she agreed.

“Unless her father’s search party finds us before then,” said Hugh.

She almost laughed. “I doubt that will happen.”

“Why not?” Hugh asked.

“There isn’t anyone in my father’s employ who could track a bleeding deer through three feet of snow.” Her tone turned more serious as she told him the truth about her father.

When she finished, Robert said, “If his memory fails him, who makes the legal decisions for him?”

“My sister’s husband. He is the Earl of Sheridan and a barrister. He came to Humberly Hall over a year ago to set my father’s affairs in order. We were worried that my father might fall under the influence of someone capable of swindling him out of everything.”

“So, your brother-in-law controls your dowry?”

“Yes.”

“And does he know where you are going?”

“His wife…my sister, Elizabeth, knows. In fact, going to my old nanny’s was her idea.”

“Well, first things first. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. We will need a good night’s sleep.” Robert turned to Meleri. “You will probably feel safer if you spread your plaid down between the two of us.”

Robert and Hugh tossed their bedding to the ground on each side of where she stood. As soon as that was done, Robert told Meleri he and Hugh would take a short walk to give her a “wee bit o’ privacy.”

“You have no tents?” she asked.

“Tents?” Hugh guffawed. “We are men, mistress, not English lambs.”

As Hugh led the way down to the burn, Robert heard the soft, hesitant sound of Meleri’s voice. “You won’t…you won’t go far, will you?”

“We won’t leave you alone in the dark, if that is what you are worried about,” Robert replied.

“I shan’t take long. I need only to remove my shoes.”

“Go to sleep, lass,” Robert said, then followed the sound of swift flowing water tumbling over rocks, as it made its way down the hillside.

He found his brother and stopped next to him, each silently contemplating their own thoughts about what tomorrow might bring.

After a while, Hugh picked up a stone and flipped it into the burn. “You will be married before that water reaches the sea.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“What happened to change your mind? One minute you were ready to take my suggestion to marry her and hit me with it. The next thing I know, you are proposing to her.”

“I had a change of heart.”

“I didn’t know you had one.”

“I changed my mind, then.”

“I know, but something happened that made you change it. I saw your face, Robbie. You were looking like you had been shot in the back. Was it something she said?”

Robert figured Hugh would have to know, eventually, but he was not ready to tell him about Waverly just yet. “It was simply the right time. I had time to think about what you said. It made perfect sense to marry her and hie ourselves back to Scotland with all due haste.”

“I’m glad you feel better about it.”

“I don’t feel better at all. If the truth were known, I feel remarkably like I went out for sheep and came home shorn.”

The sound of Hugh’s laughter danced out into the night, and like the gurgling water of the burn, made its way down the hillside.